


Tumblr Prompt Fills

by crality



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Danvin - Freeform, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mavin, Raychael - Freeform, Raywood, Tumblr Prompt, geovin - Freeform, micheoff, turnfreewood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3947941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crality/pseuds/crality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling tumblr ask prompts is how I originally started getting into the idea of writing fic. It's great practice and helps you get the brain pumpin'. Here's a bunch of short ones that I'll update as I post them.</p><p>Request your own at http://shinykonyta.tumblr.com/message or let me know in the comments!!</p><p>Archive warnings will be stated in the notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Word Vomit

> "yes, okay..i’ve dreamt about you and now? you’re all i can think about" - ryan/ray

“Yes, okay. I’ve dreamt about you and now… you’re all I can think about?” Ray’s voice was exasperated and he looked up from his keyboard, right at his screen where Michael was at a loss for words. It was after five and everyone had gone home, but Ray was still leaning into his chair like a rag doll, trying desperately to get advice from his friend. “Like, is that what I’m supposed to say? Give me one reason why that wouldn’t freak him out.”

Michael shrugged his shoulders, a heavy sigh escaping him as he avoided Ray’s pointed stare and fidgeted with the tab of the beer he was drinking. “I just think you should talk to him, is all. Like, grow some balls, dude. What’s worse, y’know? Some awkward shit or fuckin’… not knowing.” They were quiet as Michael took a swig of his beer, eyebrows raised at Ray, who was staring right back. Finally, the silence was broken as Michael’s eyes glanced behind Ray, a grin spreading across his face. “Now’s your chance, dude.” Giggling the whole way, Michael signed out of Skype with a chunk of the deuce.

Ray swiveled around and caught sight of Ryan, his heart slamming against his chest as he threw off his headphones and tried to act natural. Ryan was obviously just grabbing something from his desk, but he gave Ray a sideways smirk as he leaned over his chair and powered on his computer. “Workin’ late?” He asked casually.

“I, uh, I’ve been dreaming of you and now you’re… all I can think about.” Fuck. Ryan took a moment before he straightened up, eyeing Ray curiously. Ray thought maybe he would die of embarrassment, but then Ryan bit his lower lip and Ray was on fire and melting and was going to sink through the floor and into the core of the Earth. “S-… I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.” Ryan interrupted, eyes dragging over Ray’s body, until he finally flicked his gaze back up and met his stare. “I’ll give you a ride home.”


	2. Stare/Back

> "you can’t say no to the sex dice. " michael/gavin

“You!! You can’t say NO to the sex dice, Michael!” Gavin got to his feet, chasing Michael across the room and pinning himself to the door so his stupid, stubborn boyfriend couldn’t open it. His face was hopelessly disappointed and he bounced his knees a couple of times, pleading. “You said you’d play, Michael! Come on, just give it a go.”

“They’re fuckin’ stupid, get your stupid ass off the door, move it!” Michael’s pink face betrayed him. Gavin knew he was more embarrassed than angry, despite the firm grasp Michael had on his arm. “Gav, I’m not going to play this stupid game, okay? I’m not gonna fuckin’ lick your elbow for 45 seconds or whatever. It’s fucking ridiculous!” Another tug and Gavin’s body left the stable door behind him, but he pushed back against it.

“Please, Michael.” His voice had lowered and gave Michael pause, his face softening as he avoided looking up at the stupid idiot in front of him. He sighed softly, and pulled his hand back.

“Fine. Whatever.” Defeated, Michael stalked back over to his spot on the floor, grabbing the dice with one hand. “I’m going first, though.” Gavin seemed pleased as fucking punch as he plopped down next to Michael, stretching out on his stomach and planting his head on the palms of his hands. “Don’t look so fucking disappointed,” Michael muttered as he tossed the dice, praying for something worthwhile and not a “stare/back” combo. The boys watched the first one land directly on “suck” and Gavin’s eyebrow perked. The second die was the time and it landed quickly after on “60 seconds”. Finally, the last one finished spinning, and Gavin let out a noise that could equate to “I told you so”.

“Guess you’re sucking my groin for a full minute. Sooo ridiculous, though.”

“Shut the fuck up and unzip.”


	3. Whipped

> "soo.. whip cream or chocolate" - geoff/gavin

“Soo… whip cream or chocolate?” Geoff immediately started laughing, pushing himself up onto his elbows to look at the boy at the end of the bed.

“Did you just say whip cream?” Gavin’s face sent Geoff back onto his back, his heels kicking at the bed as he sunk into laughter. Gavin sat back onto his heels, looking upset as he watched Geoff’s fit dissolve.

“What!” Geoff didn’t shut up, so Gavin, frustrated and possibly a little hurt, smacked at the man’s leg with the can of cream. “Stop it! Geoff, you asshole!“ 

"Whip cream!” Geoff screeched, his foot reeling back from the blow, sending him rolling onto his side. “Fuckin’… fuck… whip cream! You’re so dumb.” His giggles finally seemed to be subsiding, but Gavin was just about over it by the time Geoff managed to stop. “It’s  _whipped_ cream. I wanna give you a fuckin’ gold medal in the dumb Olympics, jesus.”

Just as it seemed like they were going to get back to business and Geoff was scooting back onto the bed, a cold, wet  _plop_ of chocolate landed on his neck. He turned slowly, his mouth open, and narrowed his eyes at Gavin. “You’re fuckin’ dead.” He launched himself at Gavin, sending them both over the edge of the bed. Gavin immediately pressed on the can, sending  _whipped_ cream into Geoff’s face. He lost hold of the jar of chocolate and was, in an instant, covered from chin to tummy in it.

After a struggle, Geoff managed to pin the boy’s hands under his knees, straddling him and using his weight to keep him against the ground. “Mmm, is it good?” He giggled as he wrenched the whipped cream from Gavin’s hand and sprayed a perfect poof into his mouth. “Sooo yummy, right, baby boy?”

"Fuck off!” Gavin mouthed around the whipped cream, but he was grinning as Geoff leaned down and ran his tongue right up his chocolate covered neck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A repost for organization, sorry.


	4. Crackers

>  "you're too good at this" - michael/ray

“You’re too good at this.” Ray managed to mutter, shifting his knees as they dug into the dimestore carpet of Michael’s ticky-tacky apartment. He grabbed the arms of the computer chair Michael was reclining in, tugging the other boy forward so he could get a better angle at his cock. “It’s been like half an hour, asshole.”

Michael paused, eyes closing as he tried to regain focus. “You wanted to play, asshole number two.” He suffered a glance at his laptop, catching the time. “And it’s been forty-five minutes. Guess time flies when you’re having a good time.” The smirk Michael put on drove Ray crazy and he grunted as he went back to work.

He worked Michael with newfound determination, positioning himself so he could take him until he choked. Michael, on the other hand, lifted his book and grit his teeth as he tried to find his place. He had a harder time focusing on the words as Ray swallowed against his dick, but he managed to squint and read out loud.

“Th- thee terrified cavepeople… grabbed their chi- hn-… children. And ran for the,” Deep breath. “Safety of the caves behinnnd their v-village.” Ray was really fucking determined to prove himself at this point, and Michael tilted his head back and let himself groan, which was technically against their rules. Michael tried his hardest to go back to reading out loud, bringing the book up to his face instead of leaning back down and risking seeing Ray’s mouth wet against his cock. “George… and Harold. And Crackers-“

“Crackers, huh?” Ray chirped, blowing warm breath on the sensitive skin before sinking back onto his friend’s dick. He felt that familiar tug and hummed, listening to Michael’s breath quicken even as he whimpered a denial that he was close. “Mhmm.” He muttered, tongue pressing to the shaft of Michael’s cock as he swallowed again. The book fell from Michael’s hand as he bucked against Ray’s mouth, cumming into his mouth and giving a strangled cry.

Ray swallowed again, lapping up the spit and cum that dripped down onto Michael’s hips. The book, forgotten underneath the chair, caught his eye and he wiped at his lips before ducking down to pick it up. Michael shuddered, head lolling a little so he could watch Ray examine the cover. “They just don’t make Captain Underpants like they used to, man.”

 


	5. Stay

"Stay with me." Michael froze, eyebrows pinned together as he considered pretending he hadn’t heard that. He tugged his sock all the way on, shaking his head just enough to make curls bounce. "Michael… please."

God, what did he want? Why was it nothing but quick fucks in the bathroom until just the moment when Michael had decided he couldn’t do it anymore. One last one night stand and he was gonna be out, gonna move on. And Geoff was asking him to stay.

"Hey, look, I know I’ve been a dick-"

"Been a dick?" Michael found his voice as he got to his feet, trying to find his other shoe somewhere in the mess of clothes on the floor. "You literally only text me when you want dick, Geoff. You’re all over Gavin at work. And you’ve offered to give me rides home after coming over and letting you fuck me. You’ve been a little more than a dick.” Geoff let Michael find his belt - watched him steal moments to glare as he clumsily looped it into his jeans.

"You’re right." For the second time that night, Michael was shocked. He clenched his jaw, reaching down to scoop up the shoe he’d just found and throw it right into the bed. Geoff barely dodged it, shifting out of the bed and pulling on boxers as he marched toward the boy. "Is being right so foreign to you that you get pissed when you hear it? Or is that just your normal fucking function?" Michael backed up as Geoff approached, hands balled in anger.

"Don’t tell me I’m right when you’ve made me feel crazy for months!" Michael grabbed the closest thing he could from the floor, tossing the t-shirt in Geoff’s direction. It was caught easily and this time Geoff took the boy’s wrist and pulled him in close.

"Stop it. You’re being a fucking baby," He flinched away from Michael’s struggling and ignored his ‘fuck you’ interruption. "I’m trying to apologize. I’m trying to be better, you idiot. Just stay with me tonight, let me try." They were quiet, Michael jerking his arm out of Geoff’s grasp as they stared at each other, too close to be broken and too far to be fixed.

"Just tonight." Michael murmured, taking a reluctant step into Geoff’s space.

"Sure. We’ll try again, tomorrow."


	6. Say It

"Call me master." Geoff’s hand found Michael’s curly head and he pushed, sending the boy’s face into the pillow. He thrust forward, wrenching a weak cry from Michael as he buried himself into him. "Say it." Tattooed fingers pushed into Michael’s ass, guiding him forward and then hooking onto his hips and slamming him back onto Geoff’s dick. "Say it.”

Even halfway to finishing, Michael let out a breathless laugh. He forced his face out to the side, Geoff’s hand slipping a little as the little redhead peered up at him from the dent in the pillow. “You’re fucking kidding, right?” Everything seemed to stop for a minute as they looked at each other, both challenging the other with their stares. “You’re being for real? Master??” Michael laughed again, sufficiently distracted.

"You little shit." Geoff growled, fingers slipping into the collar around Michael’s neck and tugging him upright. His hand found Michael’s throat and though the giggling was choked out of him, the boy was still fucking smirking. "You do what I say, baby." He kissed at the backs of Michael’s freckled shoulders, lips brushing up his neck. "That’s how it works."

Michael shook his head just a little, but he really did try to wipe the smile from his face. Geoff deserved it, he guessed. He didn’t have to try anymore as the man’s grip tightened on the leather around his throat, a gag escaping him.

"I gave this to you for a reason, baby." A moment passed while Geoff used one hand to keep the hold on the collar tight and the other to pump Michael’s until it was too much. Michael spilled into Geoff’s hand with a strangled moan, his fingers immediately flying to his throat as he was released and tossed back to his place on the pillow. He sputtered, catching his breath and letting the dizziness make him feel like he was falling inside of the bed and through the floor. Geoff seemed satisfied, dropping off of his knees and scooting behind his misbehaving boyfriend.

Michael leaned into Geoff’s chest, a slightly troubled look on his face as he found a steady rhythm of breath and tilted up to look him in the eye. “I don’t like it… I just… I call you daddy for a reason.” A silent understanding settled over them, and it was Geoff’s turn to try and fail to suppress his smile.


	7. Itsy Bitsy Spider

> “things you said when we were the happiest we ever were” AND “things you said after it was over” - micheoff

Geoff ignores another call.

It’s six hours into radio silence.

His throat is sticky, his mouth dry. Trying to remember what the past week fully encompassed is daunting and, ultimately, impossible. Chunks are missing from the memories, and when he squeezes his eyes shut he thinks maybe chunks have fallen from his body too. The bar around him is busy, noisy, a perfect excuse. 

‘No, I can’t answer the phone, I’m in a bar, it’s loud, I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up.’

Excuses are Geoff’s native language, anyway.

Just to hammer in his shame, he checks his phone as it stops vibrating. Michael’s name still hangs unanswered and alone. The only person reaching out to him and the only person he won’t speak to. He turns the phone over, hand laid over it as if that might slow his dissent into self-loathing over another name to strike off his list, another history he’d drink to forget.

“Hey,” Who is he even asking for? Bartender. Right. “Hey.” They’re as sick of him as he is. He orders a whiskey, neat. “Yeah, yeah, another one.” There’s a pause in the conversation that makes Geoff feel like he’s disappeared. His hand lifts off the phone and waves, like he’s batting at imaginary flies around his head. “Am I still here?”

When it’s in his head, the phrase sounds jovial. Funny. He’s a god damned comedian. But the bartender’s leaning toward him with that pitying face, giving him the speech he’s avoided for years. He scrapes his phone off the bar and wrestles money from his wallet, tossing it down before stumbling to the exit.

Fuck, he’s stumbling.

He steadies himself on the picnic tables, on the fence posts, on the trees lining the parking lot. Every pause takes effort to keep from heaving, from sinking to his knees and giving up. His driver’s seat is a cage around him, too-warm in the summer heat.

His phone, stuck under one leg for safe keeping, vibrates. “What the fuck do you  _want_?” Frustrated, lost, drunk and angry, Geoff slams his hand onto the horn once, twice. The third honk is drawn out as long as he can muster the strength, his arms giving out as he wrenches the start of a sob out of his gut. His head lays back against the headrest and he lets it happen. He gives in.

The light of his phone makes him squint, but he slides it open and manages to see Michael has left three new voicemails. He had thought there was no room inside of him for anything new, but anxiety blooms in the center of his chest. There’s nothing good for him in those messages, so he instinctively clicks on the old ones he’s left for moments like these, tapping speaker phone on.

” _Hey! Hey! Wake up, it’s me! Okay, I know you can’t hear this, I’m definitely pulling some like 90’s out loud voicemail shit. Just answer your phone, I brought you breakfast! I’m going to call you again and you’ll hate me. Oh! You’re letting me in. Hi, Geoff. Yeah, I just thought I’d bring you-_ ”

Delete.

” _Geoff!! Geoff, if you come pick me up from Yellowjacket I will blow you in the car. One time only offer, Geoffy, better get it while it’s hot! It’s me, I’m the hot one. Okay, please? Please, please, daddy? I don’t have a ride, I need you._ ”

Delete.

” _I’m glad you didn’t answer. I wanted you to hear this later, and if you like it, I want you to hear it all the time. I dunno. I guess I’ve been thinking. Ugh, Jesus, I hope you listen to this after I see you today… Geoff, I’m just… really happy right now. I’m really happy. Like, I’ve never been this happy in my life kind of happy, and I guess I’m scared that you aren’t feeling the same way, but… I guess I just trust that you are. That’s all._ ”

Geoff hovers over the delete button, staring down through a layer of thin eyelashes, before clicking on the first new message.

” _Hey. You’re wasted. Again, I’m sure. Look, I’m sorry? I’m not taking it back, I’m just sorry. I don’t want you to fucking die because you got dumped. Wash your face and go home and get in bed, Jesus Christ._ ”

Michael’s voice sounds wrong. Geoff breathes through his nose because if he opens his mouth he’ll fill the car and drown. He soldiers through, deleting the terse, foreign message quickly.

” _Are you fucking ignoring me? I’ve texted you. Look, I still fucking CARE about whether or not you’re alive but I’m not driving from bar to fucking bar again looking for you. I told you I was done with that, I told you that. Fucking answer your phone, you asshole._ ”

There’s a firecracker waiting to burst in Geoff’s chest. Delete. Move on.

” _You know what? Fuck you. If this is how you want this, fuck you. Don’t call me. I really hope you’re alive and all, but really? I don’t fucking care._ ”

Geoff really has disappeared, now. He fades into his seat, letting the wretched noises pour out of his mouth as he deletes the message from his phone, his mind, his history. Another name off the list. He can barely hear the voice, light and happy, over his own pathetic, heavy breathing, but he taps on the one leftover message he couldn’t bear to send to the ether.

” _I’m glad you didn’t answer…_ ”


	8. Tickle Monsters

> “things you said with no space between us” 

“Holy shit!” Michael rolls off the couch with a loud thump, pain zipping through his shoulders as he braces for impact. Ray comes tumbling after him, his own yelp not even close to words. Michael’s got the advantage - size, strength, surprise. He rolls Ray over onto his back and sits on his hips, instinct taking over immediately as his fingers work the other man’s sides. “Say uncle, asshole!”

No one else is in the office, at least for the moment. Lunch hour left the two boys time to play, and if there was one thing Michael and Ray still knew how to do together, it was get into trouble. Michael’s chair was still overturned by his desk, Ray’s computer still running one of the WWE iterations with the sound turned down. Their the only ones making noise, the only life in the brightly lit room.

“I’ll never surrender!” Ray gasps between howls of laughter, squirming under Michael’s tickling, trying and failing to bump his friend off of him. He’s almost kind of a little bit close to being free when Michael takes it to another level and grabs Ray’s hands. He wrestles them to the floor, pinning either side underneath his knees before continuing to, mercilessly, grab at Ray’s ribs. “I think you’re killing me!”

Ray’s never lost so badly before. Usually when the boys get rowdy, Gavin’s there to draw all the attention to him. Or Geoff steps in to put the smack down. It hasn’t been just him and Michael in a long time - Ray’s missed it, really. He always liked having to fight his way back to the top.

He really does think he might die as Michael’s giggles blend with his own gasps for air - the only idea that occurs to him is outlandish. A low blow. Fighting dirty. Ray goes for it.

“Remember last time you were on top?” Ray shouts, planting his feet and grinding up against Michael’s crotch, watching the boy’s mischievous look falter into surprise. “It’s been a while since you fucked me, huh?”

“You little  _shit,_ ” Michael purrs, only working Ray’s bones harder, moving to tickle at his neck and his collarbone. “You think I’m that easy?”

“I remember when you were, yeah.” Ray’s body is starting to adjust to the stimulation, but he squirms so that Michael still thinks he’s wrecking him. “What’d they call you? Mikey Bikey?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Michael barks a laugh, digging his hips down against Ray’s. 

“Only one way to make me!” Ray quips, eyebrows bouncing as he meets Michael’s rocking hips and  _knows_ his words are working. Their play date is almost over if the time is right in Ray’s head, but he grins and presses just a little more. “I mean, maybe two ways.” Ray answers Michael’s curious look with a glance at their crotches, and when he meets Michael’s eye again the boy is flushed and, maybe, considering it. “You gonna let me suck your cock, Michael?”

Ray’s voice is laced with expectation, but he really is surprised when Michael bends forward and kisses him without restraint. He finds his arms are released and twists fingers into Michael’s curls as they press close, familiar and nostalgic. It really has been a long time. Michael’s kiss is insistent, warm, inviting. Their tongues are swapping before Ray has a chance to even consider continuing their fight, and he feels Michael’s hand at his stomach.

Jesus, the kid moves fast.

Things are about to turn somewhere they can’t back out of when the door swings pretty damn wife open and Geoff’s laugh is rocketing over them. Ray takes his chance. He swings his leg over, knocking Michael over him and taking his turn sitting on top of the boy’s hips. His fists pump through the air as he shouts. “Fucking gottem! Ray wins again!“ 


	9. 1, 2, 3, Go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Major Character Death.

Later, he would wonder if it was a good thing the cameras were rolling. He would look back at the video and rewind it thousands of times, counting to himself every time he hit play. Before bed he would lay there, unable to let sleep find him, with nothing but the glare of his phone lighting the room. Watching. Over and over and over and over.

Only a handful of people had ever watched the video. Dan hadn’t wanted to show anyone, really. But a few people demanded to see it, and he respected their tearful commands. He’d never seen anyone else’s reaction, though, always choosing to step out of the room to brood.

It was his fault.

He dreamed of it. Flashes of white, lab coats. His laugh, his little gurgle of a scream. The scene was interrupted by sirens and fire and screams, but always returned to the laugh. What always woke him was the gunshots, firing off one, two, three, four, he lost count. The sound slammed him from sleep, and he wrenched breath from the cement in his chest and choked on his dread. And the rest of the scene played like a reel, shadowed in his mind despite having seen it every single moment.

Gavin, screaming with laughter as he darted across the shot without looking. His face wide with joy until one, two, three, four, countless shots rang out and his expression sank into distressed shock. Big, windowpane eyes staring at Dan, the hint of his smile still lingering. “I.. didn’t say go!”

“Yeh, but I was ready, ey?” Dan, stupid and grinning and setting the rifle gently down in the plush grass at his side. Waiting for Gavin to start laughing again. He found his friend’s face again, his best friend’s face, and confusion and pain was painted over it like an unfamiliar mask. “Gavin? Shit, are you bleeding?” And he fell.


	10. Blackberry Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Major Character Death.

> “things you said that i wish you hadnt” and “things you said when we were the happiest we ever were”

Meg doesn’t get out of bed for two full weeks. The Joneses take turns making sure she’s fed, taking care of the pets, doing laundry and brushing her hair. They’re gentle with her, and she thanks them by staying alive. She can’t find another gesture. That would have to be enough.

When Meg dreams, she actively forces herself to forget them when she wakes up. She stares at the wall, feeling Smee jump onto the bed and curl against her back, and pretends she’ll turn around and see him there. If she closes her eyes she can almost pretend like her waking hours are the sleeping ones, almost pretend that imagining Gavin waking up after her are her dreams.

But when she opens her eyes she remembers him silent, remembers him bloodied and unmoving. She remembers him lowered into the ground.

She starts pretending he’s there, sometimes. She turns over to face his side of the bed and she smiles like he’s there. “Good morning,” she whispers to him, and places her hand on the space where his head is supposed to be. Where it always was before. “Did you sleep okay?”

She can hear him answer her. Hear his voice say good morning, that he loves her, that he had this crazy dream about living in a mountain made of throwing stones that moved whenever he did. She smiles, gathering herself up against the unused pillow, as if it could maybe take up the space he used to. She can remember, vividly, him being there. Their best moments spent holding each other as the sun slowly started to filter through the bedroom window.

Meg remembers him telling her every detail of every dream he had. It was her favorite part of the morning. His dreams were always tangled up in fantasy, while hers had a tinge of anxiety in every moment. They would swap stories and laugh and make each other feel at home. Like they weren’t alone. 

“I dreamed about you,” Meg whispers to nothing, her face pressed to the pillow of Gavin’s long-gone chest. “I dreamed we were painting, and you painted my face. You got my teeth wrong, but it was pretty. We talked about which animals went bald for our paintbrushes. I said mine was from a tazmanian devil, and you said I was the reason they were going extinct.” She traces patterns on the pillow’s surface, like maybe he’ll feel it wherever he is, now. “Yours was a bald eagle, and I told you it didn’t make sense, but-”

“Meg?”

Meg untangles herself from the body pillow, shouting as she turns to find wherever the voice has come from. She stares the man down - he takes up almost the whole doorway, watching her carefully like she might take off running through her own home. 

“Ryan?” Relief filters through her. She knows Ryan, she has missed Ryan, she didn’t expect Ryan. “What are you doing here?”

“Michael and Lindsay asked me to check in on you…” Ryan ventures, taking a few steps into the bedroom. He glances around, as if he expects someone else to meet him inside. “Were you talking to someone?”

Meg turns pink with embarrassment, laying herself back down in her usual spot. She goes back and forth in her head, considering if she should tell him. She wishes she can take it all back, go back to the stillness and the numbness. The gutted feeling of embarrassment is too much for her, it’s worse than being cared for out of fear. Meg finds she doesn’t care - she doesn’t have anything to lose. Not even Ryan.

“I was… I was talking to Gavin.” The quiet is enough to make Meg wish she hadn’t said anything. She buries herself into her blankets, shutting her eyes. Turning off. Ryan’s hand lands on her shoulder and the bed tilts a bit as he sits next to her, rubbing a thumb over the thickness of the quilt.

“I do it, too.” He murmurs, and Meg peeks out just a little. “Every night.”

–

Countless months later, Ryan pulls Meg against his chest and kisses gently into her hair. He gently bumps her glasses further up her nose as she looks up to meet his eye. The morning sun is barely starting to peek into their bedroom window, but they'e both wide awake in each others’ arms. 

“So,” He starts, thumb flipping a strand of her hair behind her ear. “What did you dream about last night?”


	11. Purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Goddamn pee.

> psst do a pee thing clarity u know you wanna for old times sake

The first time Michael does it is in the middle of the night.

He’s dreaming about Geoff, which isn’t exactly commonplace. Geoff has wet dreams a lot - Michael wakes up to his boyfriend pawing at his ass or whispering in his ear. Michael, on the other hand, dreams about great battles and of small spaces. So finding himself, dead asleep, with tattooed hands splaying his knees apart and a warm mouth sliding up and down his dick shocks him awake. The warmth of the dream is replaced by the unfamiliar sensation of wetness between his legs and he springs out of bed, rushing to the restroom as Geoff stirs and groans awake.

Next time, it’s not so convenient.

Michael has his ass in the air and three fingers inside of him. His whole body is loose and being rocked into the mattress by the weight of Geoff. He leaks tears and drool, sunken deep under into that sweet release of control where his mind is blank. Geoff takes perfect care of Michael, the way only he knows how to, stroking at his dick as he replaces fingers with his too-ready cock and sinks the boy’s knees further into the comforter.

Michael feels the build up like he always does. He’s always held back a little, waiting for it to be too much before he finally releases and spills into Geoff or onto Geoff or all over himself. It’s the last tiny bit of control he can keep, the only bit he’s alright with savoring. So when he loses it - when he’s letting go before he’s ready - he cries out and knows something is wrong.

Geoff is still sweet. He pulls Michael up into his lap and he kisses him soft and brings them towels. They wash the sheets together and casually wonder what’s up, Michael’s cheeks still bright pink the whole time.

Finally, it’s on purpose.

Geoff’s been hinting at it for weeks. He doesn’t want to bring it up in casual conversation, afraid Michael’s just too embarrassed - or maybe, more likely, afraid that Michael wanted nothing to do with it and a little embarrassed, himself. He manages, though, as Geoff always does. Late at night, tipsy and curled up with an equally buzzing Michael, they talk about how Geoff wants to see his boyfriend’s underwear soak through and his cheeks burn bright and his body convulse from the release.

Michael can’t say no to that, right?

He sits on his ankles in bed, a towel under either knee, Geoff knelt in front of him. Michael loops arms around Geoff, whose hand has been steadily stroking the boy’s shoulder up and down. The smaller man is shaking from nerves, his jaw trembling as if he’s out in the middle of December’s chill. Geoff kisses his lips, steadying him with one big hand on his chest.

“Do it for me, yeah?” He whispers, hand venturing off of the soft skin of his shoulder and down to the sturdy muscle of Michael’s pelvis. “Maybe next time I’ll have to scare you.” Geoff gauges Michael’s reaction, watches the boy’s eyes flicker up to him from under eyelashes. “I can do that, you know? Make the baby piss his panties. Threaten to smack that pretty face until you can’t even help it.” The consistent hand on Michael’s chest moves to take the boy’s chin between fingers. Geoff lifts his face up, pressing his forehead to his. “Better it’s on purpose this time, right? Save the good stuff for later.”

Michael whines and nods, whispering a “yes, sir,” as he soaks through his underwear, wetting freckled thighs. Geoff’s thumb traces Michael’s lips.

“Good boy.”


End file.
